


I'm Living in a Hole and I Want to Go Deeper (I Never Find Gold But Other Things Much Sweeter)

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: Mighty Max
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,015
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2882207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgil realizes who Warmonger really is.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Living in a Hole and I Want to Go Deeper (I Never Find Gold But Other Things Much Sweeter)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thepreciousthing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepreciousthing/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Dragon Alchemy](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/89417) by The Sovereign Court and Order of the Ancient Dragon. 



> I started writing some version of Virgil-talking-to/thinking-about-Warmonger years and years ago and abandoned it because it didn't quite go anywhere, but a piece of genius head-canon from thepreciousthing insinuating that maybe the first Capbearer didn't die, precisely, made me want to try again. My theory is that everything backstory-wise in Mighty Max is connected, and we would have seen that even better had the show been allowed to continue after two seasons. "Khul Zilad" as an approximation of Skullmaster's 'real' name is not mine, but a fellow who started writing an MM movie script many eons ago, and it's kind of been my head-canon ever since. Title comes from the song "Beespit" by the band Lemuria (yes, really), and the linked article about "Dragon Alchemy" gave me lots of ~ideas, too.

1.

He doesn’t recognize him at first – the Chamber of Destiny has either been incredibly cruel or incredibly kind as to shield him from this particular reality – but he knows he’ll spend as much time as he has left on this mortal coil contemplating these particular repercussions. 

The build is the same; he was always stockier than Norman, and that hasn’t changed, although the thick, red hide and matted tufts of hair are something of a shock. Their meeting that time is mostly perfunctory – the lava beasts find him first upon his sole arrival to the underworld via portal, and herd him to their makeshift general – though as he’s shackling Virgil to the edge of a cliff overseeing a river of bubbling lava, everything becomes painfully clear: “Maximus,” Virgil utters in hushed agony. 

His captor snarls in disgust. “I am Warmonger, now” he hisses. “I’ve a new name, and a new master, and soon,” he adds, mouth jagged, eyes beady and shining, “you will all perish by his hand.” Then, he is gone, again, and Virgil is left to his thoughts, past and present and everything beyond and between.

2\. 

The trio doesn’t talk much after the current Capbearer’s inspired, on-the-spot plan to rid them of the immediate threat of Skullmaster’s Atlantean minions by sending them on a one-way trip to the Marinas Trench, though a sense of awed appreciation for what has transpired seems to hang thoughtfully overhead. And then, because this Max never was one for long silences: “So did you ever hear from him again? No phone call, no Christmas card?” And in spite of himself, the corners of his beak turn up slightly.

“No, Mighty One.” Somber again, his forthcoming explanation is wrought not by a pressing need to lie to the boy, but to protect him, until he’s ready, from all there truly is to lose. “The first Capbearer died by Skullmaster’s hand, and then you were called into duty.”

3\. 

He knows he’s not long for this mission at the start of it, has come to some measure of peace with his role in this latest visit to Skull Mountain, though Norman’s needling side glances certainly aren’t helping. Sure enough, Maximus – Warmonger – is in the thick of what amounts to carefully constructed chaos, and he’s whisked away from the nucleus of it within mere minutes. 

Once more, this creature has been tasked with preparing him for Skullmaster’s imminent arrival. This time, however, the location is much more intimate, as though the Dark Lord is anticipating a private meeting. The fallen Capbearer seems to also recognize the uniqueness of the occasion. “My Master has something special planned for you,” he rasps, and Virgil grunts a little as the chains he’s been affixed to from the arcing stone ceiling hold his weight fully for the first time. Lightheaded, his head bobbing towards the ground, now, the sounds of Maximus-cum-Warmonger’s footsteps echo exaggeratedly in his wake.

4\. 

Khul Zilad was his best student. What he didn’t know for sure, he guessed, repeatedly and relentlessly, until Virgil – sometimes, and increasingly so, lately, as his lines of questioning became more and more intense – relented and confirmed the knowledge he was seeking. Lately, his interest in alchemy had been particularly piqued, and with it, Virgil’s impending dread. 

“Two halves.” Zilad pointed at an illustration in a text of a great serpentine beast, its two heads intertwined and facing opposite one another. “The dark and the light. Together, their union forms the Gates of the Abyss. Apart, though … suppose one simply wanted to isolate the Serpent’s Fire from the Water of Space.” He must have looked daunted by the suggestion, because Zilad’s added, “only as a point of theoretical conversation, of course, my dear mentor.”

Virgil swallowed. “Theoretically or otherwise, the unjoining of the two halves must never be attempted, lest it bring about the tearing of the very fabric of the cosmos. Surely you understand that, Khul.”

“Of course,” the young man says calmly, patiently, and Virgil wants so badly to believe that his intentions are purely the sating of academic curiosity. “But if they were to be rent apart …” he added after a moment, and Virgil sighed. 

“It is not an absolute impossibility with the appropriate knowledge.” Wind rustled suddenly through the trees overhead, taking the last of Virgil’s resolve with it. “A new topic of discussion for the rest of the afternoon, perhaps,” he very nearly pleaded, and Zilad nodded, smiling ever disarmingly.

5\. 

He suspects it in part as soon as they find Tamouri, caged, mutated, yet cheerful enough to be in the presence of this generation’s Mighty One, to be certain. The journey to the young man’s (creature’s) native island yet confirms Skullmaster’s misdeeds, and, of course, being dragged before the newly escaped underlord – Warmonger (Maximus) smirks as they’re dragged from the river - unequivocally confirms his presence. 

(“When the dark half denies the light, … is this ‘devils’? It breeds ‘devils of chaos,’ is that right?”

“… in essence, yes. But, Khul, this is all absolutely hypothetical in nature, is that clear?”

“Of course, my teacher.” His star pupil’s bony finger trails reverently across a page of the book splayed across his lap. “Suppose, however, one could resist the dark – or light – half from corrupting them. Is that even possible?”

“Of course.” The Lemurian’s speech is faster, now, his interest piqued, caution momentarily compartmentalized. “It’s freewill. All who are organized by the hand of fate retain some modicum of personal choice, even in the most dire of circumstances. Good, evil, it is never merely bestowed, but chosen.”)

Seeing Tamouri spat out the forced offering of dragon’s blood, then, is the final piece to the puzzle. Virgil watches numbly as the current incarnation of the Capbearer is prostrated before Skullmaster. Unwittingly, his glance flickers towards the boy’s predecessor, as well. Though the creature’s (Warmonger’s – not Maximus anymore) choice to accept evil willingly has long been made, it is he who mourns the loss of what was, and could potentially be, as the first drop of dragon’s blood draws forcibly closer to the boy’s lips.


End file.
